


Ride the Lightning (Witch)

by HostisHumaniGeneris



Category: Devil May Cry
Genre: Extremely Dubious Consent, F/F, Seduction, Sex Magic, Succubi & Incubi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-15
Updated: 2021-03-15
Packaged: 2021-03-23 02:01:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,273
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30048222
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HostisHumaniGeneris/pseuds/HostisHumaniGeneris
Summary: You don't plant, then chop down Qliphoth, and expect it to have no strange effects.  Such as resurrecting a bunch of demons that had been just a part of Dante's arsenal, collecting dust.  Lady's finally tracked down the last of the escapees, but in chasing down the demon Nevan, has she gotten in over her head?Yes, yes she has.
Relationships: Lady/Nevan (Devil May Cry)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 9
Collections: Teratophilia Trade 2021





	Ride the Lightning (Witch)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Semjaza](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Semjaza/gifts).



Lady marched down the sidewalk, heading for the parking lot. Tonight was the night. She’d been doing reconnaissance earlier, had to pack light; a subcompact .357 tucked in a garter she had under the black cocktail dress she was wearing, a phial of holy water in the pocket of the light white jacked she had.

After all, showing up in leather and gunbelts to watch a nightclub singer give an enchanting performance of _It’s Witchcraft_ would draw too much attention.

_“'Cause it's witchcraft, wicked witchcraft_  
_And although, I know, it's strictly taboo…”_

The redhead on the stage sang slowly, soulfully. Low-cut black dress contrasted nicely with her pale, flawless skin, the red hair in an elaborate updo. Her eyes were closed, serene expression on her face, as if all she wanted was to sing her heart out.

Not that she had one.

They’d been scrambling to kill Dante’s collection of weapons since the events of Redgrave City. You didn’t plant, then chop down, a giant demonic tree, a bridge from Hell to the human world, without repercussions. Months ago, she and Trish fought a rather dim, but sturdy sets of headless oni, each wielded by a magic scimitar.

Apparently, the two swords could _always_ talk, Dante just said they weren’t allowed to.

Five minutes after meeting them, Lady and Trish decided he was right. 

The rest of the crew were all competing, seeing who could track and put down what piece of Dante’s arsenal. Trish did need a new sword after Sparda disappeared, after all. The old “eat-what-you-kill” style of compensation—while also trying to collect payment from whoever ended up threatened by the demons. Keeping the fact that technically they’d all been company property silent.

They could, when Dante inevitably showed up again, ask him to reimburse them for the bullshit they’d had to go through securing his weapons. 

And as far as Lady knew, Nevan was the last one. She hadn’t gone on a rampage like Beowulf, which Nero put down with little trouble. She didn’t exactly have difficulty hiding—she was a tall woman, enough to turn heads, but not enough to cause people to flee in panic. A few deaths—a man who had been seen taking a lovely woman home, found dead the morning after, no trauma—possibly just heart failure. The guitarist fucking the new chick who joined the band died—probably an OD, he’d had a tox screen that read like a pharmacy catalogue.

Actually sifting through coroner’s records to dredge up a pattern, then filtering out the cases that _were_ just overexertion on a one-night stand or possible alcohol-or-drug fueled cardiac issues, was tedious. Approximately zero people at Devil May Cry wanted to do it. Wasn’t Nico’s type of research since it didn’t involve explosions or obvious demonic powers. Trish preferred hunting in the field. Nero decided the women could handle it, and decided to spend time with Kyrie.

It was mind-numbing. 

But it got Lady to Nevan first. Hitting up music venues, travelling town-to-town, trying to blend in, all of it worked well. She had the target. A club that smelled of stale beer and blood, packed wall-to-wall, as Nevan, dressed all in black triumphantly belted out _Battery_. She sang karaoke at a country music festival, killing it with that one about wrecking the boy’s car for cheating on him, although the only one Lady really could bear was _Ghost Riders in the_ Sky. Another metal filled night a few weeks back.

And then this club. Lady had tracked her, and watched her, and watched her—doing entirely too much recon. Nevan was a threat, she had to put down. All that was left to do was seal the deal. But that would require more and more he automatics and a Milkor grenade launcher she was using—until Nico _finally_ got around to building her a replacement Kalina Anne—were in the sleazebag motel room she’d rented in this town.

Grab it, deal with the succubus, get a badass guitar—maybe she’d try to learn to play?

As she fumbled with the lock, of the room, she felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end. Hiking her dress up enough to put her right hand on the handgun, she used her free hand to open the door.

The room was different—it wasn’t some cheap motel. Drywall was replaced by oak, bare bulbs were replaced by candelabras, and furnishings were all more luxurious. Including the bed, very plush-looking. Laying down, dress skimpier than Lady remembered from the club, Legs crossed, one bare feet rocking, Nevan was in the middle of singing. Lady recognized it; the Stones. Just, instead of Jagger, the words came out of a woman.

_“Under my thumb_  
_It's a Siamese cat of a girl_  
_Under my thumb_  
_She's the sweetest, hmmm, pet in the world”_

She sat up and stopped singing. Lady took in a deep breath. Left hand in her pocket, right at the hemline of her dress. This was _not_ ideal. Nevan smiled warmly, drumming her fingers on the trunk. “I hope you like what I’ve done with the place—the old digs wouldn’t do for my biggest fan”. 

Lady’s heart was racing. Playing it cocky, she smirked back and said. “Hm… I hope you didn’t get rid of my stuff.”

Nevan laughed., putting a hand against her chest, at the _wide_ space of pale flesh bracketed by black cloth. Lady blinked when she realized she had been staring. “Oh, those… believe me, I have _much_ more fun toys.”

Lady had her gun raised in a split second, leveled at the succubus’s face. Then she disappeared; Lady raised her hands to cover her face as a whirling cloud of bats chittered and flapped. Lady should’ve expected that—Dante had given her the rundown of the fight one night—sharing war stories. Lighting, manipulating darkness itself as a weapon, bats, and teleportation.

“Excitable little kitten, aren’t you?”

Lady wheeled around, leveled her gun at Nevan’s face. She should’ve pulled the trigger. But something kept her from that. “Why are you doing this?”

“Oh, a girl’s got to make a living, my dear. Hunting devils? Hm… I know that blonde running around doesn’t mind killing her own, and I have a feeling that’s what you’re up to, too.” Nevan wasn’t even paying attention—both of them knew that the one gun Lady had on her wasn’t going to be enough. She studied her own nails, painted black… Lady suddenly recalled hearing _that_ Rolling Stones song, sung low and sultry, a few performances ago. “Me, I sing for my supper.”

“And… kill people. Suck them dry.” Lady scowled. The mention of supper immediately recalled the trail that led Lady here. Nevan obviously didn’t need money—this change to her motel room could be an illusion, or magic. She needed prey, probably loved adulation, and what she’d been doing was steeping herself in both.

“Girl’s gotta eat as well… believe me, they all went out with a smile.” Nevan grinned. “Hm… honestly, I consider it a mercy. Once they’ve tasted the goods, they couldn’t live without me. Of course, I’m not one to be tied down… although I might not mind you doing the tying.”

“What?!”

Nevan held a bottle in her outstretched hand. It was a bottle of cheap rotgut—she’d had it stashed in the same trunk as her ammo. “I kept this—not to my taste, but I wouldn’t mind lapping it off your skin.”

Lady blinked. Her hand was sweaty—not from fear, something else. She was burning alive, even though the room was cold enough that her arms and legs were covered by goosebumps, and through the thin material of her dress, Lady could tell Nevan’s nipples were erect. 

Why did she notice that detail?

She looked back at the succubus, who gave a knowing smile, taking a knee to set the bottle down, staring up at Lady hungrily. Then she shrugged her shoulders, dress sliding off with unnatural ease as she took a step forward. Lady reflexively took a step backwards. Normally, Lady’s eyes would be wandering the room, trying to find an exit—re-arm and re-engage. Instead, her eyes wandered along flawless ivory skin, pink nipples, and a red patch of hair, a triangle pointing down.

Despite keeping her eyes on Nevan, she was still struck dumb when the succubus rushed forward, arms hooking her neck and waist. She let out a gasp, quickly muffled by the demon’s lips. A heady, floral scent filled her head, a cool taste on her tongue. She was weak at her knees.

Oh fuck.

The gun clattered to the ground as it became to heavy to hold, and Nevan slowly lowered her to the bed, breaking the kiss. She stood, a faraway look in her eyes, licking her lips. “Oh my… you _are_ a keeper. I knew it! What are you kitten?”

“What did you…” This was all wrong—the whole thing was rotten. She could’ve, should’ve definitely taken Nevan out first time. This clandestine surveillance—once she figured out where Nevan was, served no purpose. She was hesitant, from the first time, Nevan in a mesh over a barely-decent top and skirt that barely qualified as a skirt, singing _Metal Queen._

Nevan interrupted by dropping onto the bet, running a hand over Lady’s cheek, thumb brushing the edge of Lady’s scar. She tutted. “No, no, no, Kitten. I asked you first. You’re human, taste human. I can _tell_ we have a mutual acquaintance, but that’s not it… what’s so special about you. Some bloodline thing? Great ancestor?”

Lady babbled, she didn’t know why. Something about the way Nevan asked made her. Her mother’s side of the family was descended from the priestess who aided in sealing Temen-Ne-Gru. That earned an appreciative chuckle from Nevan, who gently, playfully pinched Lady’s cheek. “That explains _so_ much. Okay, now as for what I did to you… well, you stand out—probably because of your ancestor. Spotted you, noticed you following, and… well… ‘ _I put a spell on you, because you are miiine_ ’…”

“I’m going to…” Lady growled, attempting to be as threatening as she could when she wasn't sure she could even stand up.

“Have a _great time_.” Nevan said. “I’m going to have a great time. Don’t worry, like I said, you’re a keeper. Life on the road is fun, but having a meal like _you_ to come home to? I’ll just take what I need and leave you enough… you'll get used to it. Be a good girl, and I might even share some power with you. Now, let’s get you out of that dress, and get started.”

Lady, to her horror realized she was _helping_. She was so tired, so drained. But she helped shrug off her jacket, Nevan commenting as she slowly peeled the dress off. Hm. Humans were so frail—no, those scars were lovely, added character—hm… it might be practical, but Nevan would be sure her lingerie was more ‘fun’ than what she was wearing. Garter was nice—would go with a collar.

Lady was pretty much gushing when two fingers lightly touched her. Nevan chuckled. “The old black magic.”

Lady managed to summon the strength to throw a swing. Not a strong one, not a well aimed one. Then rolled over intending to get off the bed and make a break for it. That lasted until a hand fell on her shoulder. Lady clenched her hands, against soft sheets, eyes clenched, face against a soft pillow. Long, delicate fingers wound in her hair, caressed her. Slipped from her side forward, groping a breast. She tried to push off, and the the grip in her hair tightened, the soft, gentle fondling turned into a firm grasp, and soft, cold body pressed against hers.

Then came the electricity; enough to set Lady’s teeth chattering, making her arch her back and wince. 

“Now, now sweetheart.” A soft voice whispered in an ear, before teeth gently nipped at the lobe. “We have all night to get frisky. Tell you what: You tell me to stop, and I’ll walk right out that door. Or, we can keep going.”

Fingers once again drifted between Lady’s legs, tracing a lazy circle against her clit. “See, I’m not so bad. I can play nice.”

Lady whined through clenched teeth. “Please…”

It was futile. Despite her words, Lady knew Nevan wouldn’t stop on her asking. But still, she tried, and failed, desperately to finish the sentence. Please, stop. Let me go.

Nevan’s long fingers worked her expertly, while she softly sang _N.I.B._ How could you serenade someone with Black Sabbath? Lady rocked her hips, tears welling in her eyes as she tried to get _more_ of the succubus. Inside her, against her, whatever. She set her teeth, breathing heavily. Nevan had snaked her other arm underneath, pinching and rubbing lady’s left nipple.

_“Now I have you with me, under my power_  
_Our love grows stronger now with every hour_  
_Look into my eyes, you will see who I am”_

The rest of the lyrics were drowned out by Lady screaming, shuddering, thrashing. Nevan’s hold on her tightened, and she kept fingering stroking. She stopped singing, nipping at the back of Lady’s neck.

She had no clue how long it lasted, coming to her senses with a jingling and clattering behind her. She rolled, seeing Nevan holding a length of chain in one hand, and something in her other. Reflective—metal. Phallic—a dildo. A strap on.

“Like I said, kitten. My toys are more fun than yours.”

**Author's Note:**

> Apologies for random song bits--but when your demonic weapon form is guitar, it felt _right_.


End file.
